


Build bridges

by TheCursedChild



Series: Bridges [1]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU 2x05, CM2, F/M, Incest, M/M, Multi, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCursedChild/pseuds/TheCursedChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three of them are so entangled with each other, that when Charlie brings Miles to Bass, there is only one outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build bridges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JaqofSpades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/gifts).



> A little 'just because' present to JaqOfSpades, because we agreed that there is far too little CM2 in the world. Don't get too exited though, because I'm a terrible tease, even though I feel quite horrible about that XD

Bass hasn’t bothered hiding, stands out in the open as he hears them approach. He listens to their familiar voices more or less following the loose script he and Charlie had agreed on. She’s holding herself to her part of the deal, and he’s mostly keeping himself to his.

The only exception is the rifle he has in his hand, an insurance policy in case the youngest Matheson tries to double cross him after all. He’s paranoid at the best of times, and his companion’s last name no longer instils the sense of trust it used to. Honestly, it rings every alarm bell in his head to meet these two without his full personal Militia guard. Charlie, he can handle with one hand behind his back, Miles, on the other hand, is another story.

Bass wins hand-to-hand combat without failure, and the same goes for Miles when they have their blades. He doesn’t doubt his fellow general will be armed when he and Charlie get to the meeting place, and the gun is the one way he can keep his best friend under control if he attacks first and refuses to listen.

The sad thing of the past decade is that when he finally sees him again, Bass first notices the bandage-wrapped hand. His eyes look for weaknesses, even when he’s known people for longer than he can remember, when they're friends. The impression he gets from men and woman is how easily he can kill them.

Before the Blackout he noticed eyes first. He used to be able to recite eye colours for everyone he’d ever met. Charlie’s are a clear blue when he glances at her, but all he can focus on are the brown ones that follow. He greets the other man stoically, grip tightening on the rifle that Charlie will hit him for having later.

“What did you do to her?” Miles practically growls, eyes locked on Bass as he storms closer. The blond bites back a laugh. Of all the words to say, the former general chooses these. An accusation that is actually quite welcome. Especially considering the ones he's been faced with since the nukes dropped from the sky.

He lifts his hands in denial and to proclaim his innocence. The mentally abandoned rifle doesn’t help the gesture. “I didn’t touch her.”

_Their tongues dancing, continuously fighting for dominance because she’ll never submit to him._

_His fingers tangle in her hair as she stares up at him from her knees with a sinful look._

_Her throaty moan as he enters her, her walls clenching around his cock._

He has touched her, in every way her uncle has imagined in the handful of seconds since Miles has spotted him. The words are a lie, a huge one, and of course everyone sees right through it.

“I know you, you son of a bitch, what did you do to her?”

Bass smirks. Charlie is rushing in to calm Miles down, but he doesn’t give her the chance to. He drops the rifle –Miles never even reached for his sword- and steps forward.

Miles steps back, fine with invading Bass’ personal space, but uncomfortable with allowing it to be done to him. Charlie freezes at the sight, watches in awe as her uncle is forced against the grey stone of the bridge with deliberate manoeuvring. It doesn’t seem to cost Monroe any effort.

They stand chest to chest, predator and prey, and Miles is unsure what to do. He doesn’t feel threatened, and his anger and relief at seeing Bass have cancelled each other out. All he can do is stand still, back pressed against stone as Bass softly lays his hands on the other’s hips and dips his head to rest on Miles’ shoulder.

His lips touch salty skin, familiar scent and taste as irresistible as cocaine to a junkie in rehab. Miles has always been his drug, and he’s done years without him, been nearly destroyed by the time spent apart. His hesitant agreement with Charlie, to show vulnerability (though the word hadn’t been mentioned),  fails to keep him from letting his anger get the better of him. His grip tightens, hard enough to bruise, and he sinks his teeth into the delicious flesh. Miles doesn’t make a sound as a hint of pain enters his consciousness, just presses his head harder to the stone behind him.

To Charlie, just a foot away, ready to interfere, it looks like a hug, but she knows that with Monroe, nothing ever is the way it looks. Like a hunter, she silently sneaks to the other side of the men, and sees enough. She takes the initiative and presses her fingertips into Monroe’s spine, which immediately makes him halt his punishment. She steps back again and lets the generals do whatever they need, watching with rapt attention how easily they read each other, too anxious to join to be jealous of this amazing bond they share, no matter how cracked it is.

Miles’ hands are at his side, though the sheathed swords there are long forgotten. He’s waiting for Bass to act, to breathe new life into this thing between them, because he can’t. Miles can’t allow himself to want this, never could. It’s always been Bass reaching out, need and trust and maybe even love transforming into intimate touches under the cloak of darkness.

It’s easy to be touched, all you have to do is not say ‘no’. Silence has always been enough for Bass, all the encouragement he needed to go from simple touch to more. Now it’s not, not after everything they’ve been through, not with Charlie watching with bated breath.

Bass draws his head back, eyes fluttering open, and takes in Miles’s expression. Even through the poker face, through the blank stare, he sees the fear reflected in his own eyes. 

Just like he never has, Miles is not going to initiate anything. Nothing has changed, their situation only worsened. Nothing Bass can say or do will make this progress any further. They’re always going to be stuck here; Miles so afraid of what he needs that he destroys himself in an attempt to do the right thing, even in a world where laws, rules, morals and taboos are practically non-existent.

Something changes, though Bass can’t tell what. Miles frowns, and he breaks their gaze to stare disbelievingly at his hand, where Charlie’s fingers entwine with his. She tried to stay out of this, tried to squeeze her thighs together and temporarily ignore the magnetic force of Bass and Miles together.

There’s this angry red imprint of teeth just above Miles’ collarbone, begging to be soothed by her lips and tongue. She’s so sick of restraining herself, so sick of Miles looking at her like he’d like to have her for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but deciding to starve instead.

“It takes strength to reach out,” she whispers in his ear, wrapping herself in his arm, Bass’ hand shifting from one hip to another. 

Bass revels at having Charlie and Miles so close, feels whole for the first time in a decade. His grin appears when Miles raises his taken hand and strokes Charlie’s locks, which shine golden in the sunlight. He presses her head down in half a hug, maybe intentionally giving her access to the spot she’s hungering for.

Miles looks back at Bass, finds his grin, and sighs. Their intentions are clear, they’ve never bothered to pretend they didn’t want or need this. He closes his eyes and breathes, all of them frozen and waiting for his final judgement.

So he reaches out for the first time, and he does it for and towards both of them. His hand strokes the nape of Charlie’s neck, encouraging her to do whatever she wants, as his injured hand goes to Bass’ cheek. Bass leans into the touch, euphoric with the experience, and closes his eyes, waiting for the kiss he now knows for sure is coming.


End file.
